I'll Be Seeing You
by minor-thing
Summary: Season 4. Penny's camisole. L/P
1. Chapter 1

I'll Be Seeing You

_I'll be seeing you, in all the old familiar places_

(Later in Season 4, with no references to any episodes. Leonard and Priya are together. Group scenes are alluded to, but only Leonard/Penny interaction is shown.)

Priya found it first: a pink jersey cotton camisole tucked away in the bottom of Leonard's chest of drawers. Wrinkled, soft, and see-through, the camisole was lived-in. Slept-in, more likely. It was in Leonard's drawer, amidst the witty Treadless t-shirts and Target undershirts.

She folded it back into the drawer.

Leonard found it next: getting dressed the next morning while Priya was in the shower. There it was, on the top of the pile, so delicate and pale, staring at him. His heart swelled, crept into his throat. He pushed his glasses on his nose. His feet felt numb.

Guilt, panic…

Was this here yesterday? No. Leonard knew it was not uncovered yesterday.

Leonard knew it was there. Had it always been on the front of his mind that the camisole lived in his drawers with his clothes? No. But he knew it was there. He had found it not long after they broke up and had returned all the scattered items back to one another, out of consideration for materialism.

Leonard found this in the bathroom hamper. Wrinkled, slightly damp from the towels that were living on top of it. He had brought it to his nose. Smelt it. It didn't smell like her. It smelt like Dial sort of, and humidity. There was no amber-vanilla smell clinging to it anymore.

Leonard remembered when she'd last worn it. In the bathroom, on a Saturday, pre shower sex. She had been sitting on the edge of the bathtub, coffee cup full of coffee, putting lotion on her legs. Tanning lotion, he remembered. Because sun safety was not a joke.

She was wearing it, braless, and white and blue boxer shorts. Leonard was brushing his teeth, shaving, flossing, whatever.

She was chatting, the caffeine perking her up. He was going to the university that afternoon for a meeting; she was working the Saturday night evening shift at the restaurant.

Leonard reached past her, turning on the faucet for the shower.

Without invite, Penny joined him behind the curtain. He remembered clearly her breasts splattered with water droplets, covered by the almost flesh-toned camisole.

Now, he held the camisole in his hand. Now, Priya was in the shower.

Then, Penny was in the shower. Leonard was in the shower. The jersey cotton off of her body now, tossed into the hamper haphazardly. Her breasts were in his mouth now.

Now, Leonard stared at the camisole.

How cliché. He was swept away in thought by a single square of fabric. Longing, lust, nostalgia, resentment, bitterness, love, longing, hope? He didn't know. Merely memory of association?

Priya had found it?

He felt sick. He felt sad. He felt confused. He felt longing, lust, nostalgia.

He had found the camisole months ago when doing laundry. He hadn't returned it. He wanted it, and he wanted the memories it represented.

He hadn't known been official with Priya when he kept it. They were official now. She slept at his apartment nightly, Priya was now the one he showered with.

He felt dizzy, heavy. The fabric was so soft.

Today, Priya and Leonard were to go to a matinee.

"Found it?"

He turned around, the camisole hanging from his tightly-clenched hand.

Penny?

He stumbled, his throat dry. She was dripping wet, wrapped in his bathrobe, towel-drying her hair. "Me too."

"Priya, I don't know how …"

"Oversight? Sentimental value?"

For a flashing moment in Leonard's mind, he was inside of Penny, inside the warm steam closet of the tub, both breathless in pleasure, both clinging on to one another with intensity, both kissing, sucking, gazing, gripping, moaning, panting, whispering.

"Total oversight, I'm sorry,"

Oh my God, did she scream in that shower. Leonard's knees wobbled. Her legs were slippery from the tanning lotion that never got a chance to sink in to her pores.

He remembered having fingernail marks on his shoulder when he got dressed for the meeting after.

"Can you please get rid of it?"

He would stare at it in the months after they broke up. Refusing to give it back.

"Yes, yes absolutely, it goes,"

"Thank you,"

Screaming, writhing, supporting herself by clinging to his neck.

"Honestly, just an oversight, I mean, I don't even remember her wearing anything like…" He stopped. Too far.

"Stop,"

"It goes, I swear, Priya,"

"Ok,"

It didn't go. He couldn't let go. It was in his hand, soft. "Right now? You want me to return it to her right now?"

Priya draped her towel over her shoulder, shaking out her hair. "I'd like it gone, Leonard."

"Ok,"

"Today,"

"Right,"

She exited, back into the bathroom.

Leonard dropped the camisole onto the bed.

Screaming, writhing, screaming, writhing, screaming, writhing.

Penny.

-tbc


	2. Chapter 2

I'll Be Seeing You

(Group interaction alluded to, not shown)

The matinee was forgotten about.

Priya went to Raj's for the afternoon to do work. Leonard went to work. They both worked, distracting themselves from the pink scrap of fabric that still lay on Leonard's bed.

He knocked twice on her door.

"Hey,"

Work outfit. She was going to work.

Leonard swallowed the dryness out of his throat. "Heading to work?"

"Umm, yup!" She grabbed her brown leather jacket. "What's up?"

Leonard's stomach was tight. "Just needed to drop something off,"

His ability to get straight to the point surprised him. No verbal foreplay, no stuttering. "Here," He held out his head, the fabric dripping out between his fingers. He hadn't folded it. Hopefully that wasn't rude.

She examined the piece of cloth. "Oh," She laughed, "Thanks,"

A million memories unfolded silently between them.

"Yeah, I guess it was at my place from forever ago. Found it in the-"

"Kitchen?"

Oh yeah, the kitchen. Sheldon was at the comic book store for an hour. Penny and Leonard had been preparing guacamole for a movie night with everyone else. Penny had just gotten home from work and change into her pajamas.

Sharing grazes while they crushed avocado. In no time, Leonard's hands found their way down the waistband of her sweatpants.

His throat was dry again. "Uh, no, the bathroom,"

Penny fell silent. Oh yeah, the bathroom.

Silence. Loving, sucking, kissing, rubbing, screaming. In their minds. In the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the camisole.

Leonard felt his hands sweat.

Oh my God.

"So yeah, umm, here,"

Penny's voice was lower. "Great, thank you,"

Leonard blinked. She was in his bed, sound asleep, in the pink camisole, snoring softly.

He opened his eyes. "Yeah, no – uh, no problem,"

Leonard blinked. They were playing Boggle, the pink camisole peeking out of the too-large v-neck of one of Leonard's shirts she'd chosen to wear out of comfort.

"I should be getting to work,"

Leonard nodded. She saw her in the shower, the kitchen, the bedroom, the couch, his office, his car, every single square inch of her apartment. "Totally,"

Penny laughed. He never said totally.

"Thanks for the tank top,"

They were on the couch watching movies, out walking, gone out for coffee, dinner, dessert, drinks, in the video store, the comic book store, the book store, the mall. They were spending time together, laughing. They were at the beach, the amusement park, her favourite jogging trail.

Leonard felt like lead again. "My pleasure,"

Their pleasure.

He was picking her up from work, she was dropping him off lunch at work.

Now, she was gone down the stairs, carrying with her the camisole. Leonard stood in the hall, spacey, dizzy, shaken up.

How could he have forgotten about the time in the kitchen?

-tbc


	3. Chapter 3

I'll Be Seeing You

Priya was on top of him now.

Leonard was into it. Yes? Right?

No. Not like he should've been.

She'd come back over in the evening, been blunt in asking if he'd gotten rid of the shirt, he'd said yes (the kitchen!), and they'd watched a movie and fallen asleep together on the couch. When they'd gotten into bed, Priya initiated sex.

How much attention should one give their mind?

Leonard's was not on his girlfriend. The entire duration of their relationship thus far, it'd been on his girlfriend. Through all of the questioning stares, cowardly silences, and uncomfortable moments Penny had brought into a room, he'd been solidly with Priya.

Never questioning. Never thinking about the kitchen, bathroom, car, his office, her counter.

Never thinking about anything else.

On top of him! And Leonard was not focused. Not trying, not feeling, not present.

Since when had he changed so much?

Sex, before, was an experience that he was always present for. Priya, Penny, Stephanie, anyone. No matter where he heart truly was, Leonard's mind was on the sex.

He was a man who, only in recent years started getting the action that he'd craved for the majority of his life. Women wanted him now. They writhed beneath his stocky Hobbit frame.

Or, now, on top of his frame.

But his mind just was not there.

Sex with Penny was on his mind consistently for two years straight. Possessive, love-sick, lost in an unrequited love.

His hands would be clenched when they'd hug. He'd never allow himself to spread his palms on her back and really feel her.

On Halloween, when she'd kissed him, his fingers were so tightly clenched together holding his costume ears that his knuckles were white. He was awkward. He fumbled. He had the erectile tendencies of an eighteen year old.

His body physically ached for her.

Nights upon nights upon nights were spent dreaming about her.

His jaw clenched when he was around her at first.

Any mention of anyone else commenting on how beautiful she was infuriated him. He wanted to be with her, so wholly, so steadfastly.

The night he'd kissed her salted neck and spit out the lime? When she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in close? When her sweatshirt began to ride up and he was able to touch the smooth plain of her stomach?

When she'd whispered "Come with me" and led him to her bedroom? When he'd worked up the courage to lift the sweatshirt from her body?

When he seen her white floral bra holding her breasts? When he'd timidly allowed her hands to quickly graze over them? When she'd sucked on his ear and wrapped her legs around him and squeezed?

He was petrified. He was drunk. He had cold hands and cold feet and the most intense erection of his drunk-adult life.

He was happy, thrilled.

He was not present. He was lost in memory. Priya was done, happy, smiling, kissing his neck, oblivious.

Leonard was racked with guilt.

What the hell was he doing?

.

Who was he? He'd barely noticed the changes in himself, as drastic as they were.

First, Priya asked what was wrong. If he was feeling alright.

"Tired," he apologized.

Who was he? He was not the type of guy who did ignored his girlfriend. That was some other guy. He was the anti that guy. Leonard was tender, loving, attentive.

He was sorry. "Sorry, Priya,"

He was guilty. He was sad. He was confused. He was disoriented.

Frankly, he was nostalgic for… what? Penny? Who he was yesterday before he found the tank top?

For the bumbling, rigid, self-destructive Leonard who had a hard-on for the neighbour but didn't do anything about it? For the guy who would walk to the end of the earth – Midde or present – for someone who was too afraid of commitment to be honest? Who shot out excuse after excuse of why they shouldn't be together?

Leonard was nostalgic for his old self?

Not possible.

He was happier now. More self-assured. More in tune with his own emotions. More suave.

Why risk his beautiful girlfriend for a repetition of history?

.

Sighing, Leonard poured his coffee.

Priya was showering again.

He'd awoken to a note left by Sheldon saying that Raj had driven him to the university early.

He'd awoken, also, to the camisole on the kitchen counter.

So bold of her.

She was a bold woman.

She was more than just bold.

It'd been only four days since he'd returned the camisole to Penny. Now, here it was, on his kitchen counter, as sheer as ever, staring at him, begging him, pleading him: a symbol. An olive branch. A sign. A secret that, between them, said a thousand things.

It was words. It was – cowardly – a replacement for her coming over here and telling him the truth. Telling him that all her shyness, her insecurity, her discomfort was real, not just an ignored part of Leonard's imagination.

A symbol. A sign. A sign that she, too, had spent the last four nights recalling every detail of their relationship. Romantic and otherwise.

Did she remember details like he did?

Did she remember the way he stared at her? The way admired her, probably with a gaping mouth and watery eyes? Did she remember the subtle shifts in positioning whenever she would boldy sit by him during movies? When, during movies, depending on the circumstance, would press against him, lean her head on his shoulder, or rest her hand on his leg? Or, as their friendship turned into romance, his warm arm draped over her shoulder? Wrapped around her waist? Interlocked hands?

Did she remember his fear over their first dinner non-date? Did she remember his pent-up sexual desire as he kissed her to see if the spark was there? Or his intense longing when he returned home from the North Pole?

Did she remember her own longing? Did she remember telling him to do whatever he wanted to her?

Did she remember his face when he verbalized their relationship: love? Did he?

Yes.

He assumed that yes, she did.

The camisole was on the kitchen counter. Not a coincidence.

"What's that still doing here?"

Fuck.

Well.

Panic. What should he say? Leonard panicked. He felt flushed, sick. "Umm,"

Penny was a bold, bold woman.

Priya sighed now. "Alright, Leonard," She disappeared into his bedroom.

Leonard panicked still. He was not the same self-conscious guy he was even a year earlier.

He could stand up for himself. He did. He could. He was going to.

He needed to be honest. Honesty. Honesty. "Umm,"

Honesty. "She brought it back, Priya,"

Leonard had followed her back to his room. She was packing her shampoo and make up and pajamas.

"Uh huh,"

Honesty. "I think she…" He felt spacey. "I'm sorry,"

"Leonard." Priya zipped up her bag. "Ok,"

"Ok?"

"Yes. Keep it,"

Honesty.

"I don't have…"

"Keep it. Do you want it?"

Honesty?

"I… don't know,"

"Leonard,"

"Maybe,"

Bold?

"Well, she wants you to have it," Priya slung her bag on her shoulder. "And you've had it this whole time, so I think I'd stayed my course here,"

Leonard felt like vomiting. He did not feel bold or honest.

He croaked.

"You're going to keep it, aren't you?" She asked

Leonard nodded. Yeah, he was.

"Alright. Goodbye, Leonard,"

"Priya, listen, I'm so sorry, this isn't fair to you at all,"

"Ahhhh, yes, well," She shrugged. Graceful. Sad. "See you."

"You don't have to go, we can talk about this more, I don't think you understand how I feel, really, I mean, you're assuming things. It's just a shirt,"

She shook her head.

It wasn't just a shirt.

Obviously.

Leonard took a breath. Honesty. "I didn't give myself enough time. I wasn't fair to you, I'm sorry."

"Really, Leonard. Let's just leave it, alright? Take care,"

He caught his breath. He slowed his mind.

"It wasn't you. I'm sorry. I don't know how to break up. I just… don't want to be an asshole. I feel like I want to get everything out so you don't hate me. I don't know how I feel."

Oh my God. Honesty. He felt exposed.

Priya sighed again. "Yes you do, Leonard. I knew what I was getting into, we'll be fine."

She closed the door. He sank into the couch, clutching the shirt with intensity. Well, he was his old self again. In that moment, he was the same Leonard as years previous.

He was mad at Penny. Who the hell was she for being so goddamn bold?

Giving the shirt back? He'd returned it. A symbol. A symbol of him being over her. He wasn't going to be into her forever. Why didn't she accept that, fold the shirt up in her drawer, and leave him to be with Priya?

Why?

Because she was Penny. She played men like puppets. She played Leonard; literally had him on strings for years. Inching in, leaving, inching in.

Mind games.

False hope.

So many nights spent over-analyzing by Leonard. Touches deconstructed, looks mulled over for hours. Any hope that he could cling to, he would.

Anger on Leonard's part, then and now. Anger that she had him on such a short string. Anger that, after months of romance and then months of them being broken up, she still loomed over his head.

She wasn't a puppet master. She wasn't malicious. She wasn't trying to control him. She wasn't trying to make him unhappy. She was trying to hurt Priya.

He would not feel the way he did about her if any of those things were true.

She was sad. She was lonely. She was in love. She was unloved. She was offering a part of herself that, previously, she'd only ever been receiving from Leonard.

She was vulnerable.

They'd switched positions.

She was scared.

He was scared.

He missed Priya.

He missed Penny.

He missed Penny.

He missed Penny.

He felt guilty about Priya.

He feared Raj's wrath.

He missed Penny. He longed for Penny.

He was mad at Penny. Mad, for her leaving breaking his heart repeatedly throughout the years. Mad, for her not telling him how she felt before he became involved with another woman. Mad, for her being so generally calm and collected around him.

She'd barely hinted anything post-breakup.

He'd been open to reconciliation since the second she walked out of the bowling alley.

Why?

Well.

Duh.

Where was his pride? Where was his self-respect?

It was there.

But, sometimes, pride goes out the window. Sometimes, to be so proud and inflated with self-respect, it becomes harmful. It makes things happen the opposite way you want.

He feared being too proud, because what if that reversed things totally?

If he were proud and closed up like Penny, they'd fall further and further and further from where they were before: lovers. They'd never be able to regain that ground. So, Leonard left himself open to a reunion.

At the conference, he'd been honest.

She'd invited him into her bed.

Typical Penny? Or something else?

He would never know. She was bottled up.

So, he bottled up too. He fell into an intense lust with Priya. Nothing false about it. He admired Priya, respected her.

But damn. Penny. Couldn't be her friend? What? He couldn't imagine living without Penny, as his friend, mostly.

She was a great friend.

It didn't matter, really. Priya's Bad Gal Lash wasn't in the bathroom anymore. No reason to blame her for his feelings for Penny.

She hadn't caused them. She hadn't been so awful that she pushed him back into his ex's arms.

Really, she was vulnerable too. Risking her heart to be with Leonard Hoftstader: long time admirer of Penny From Across The Hall.

He, too, was vulnerable.

Penny was vulnerable.

So much vulnerability. So little action. Leonard had kept the camisole for the duration of his and Penny's break up. Penny had said nothing to Leonard in regard to having lingering feelings for him. Leonard had never acknowledged the ache in his gut that came anytime his memory got the best of him and he'd briefly recall his history with Penny. Never returning the camisole. Never throwing out her salon shampoos in the shower. Rereading The Great Gatsby – her favourite book – from time to time, always when Priya wasn't around.

Little things. Stupid things. No action. No honesty.

Well, no more.

Leonard settled his glasses on the bride of his nose. Suddenly aware his apartment was empty. Suddenly aware he was missing work. Suddenly aware that Priya was gone and no longer a safety net of distraction.

He showered. He combed his hair. He dressed. He ate a bagel and drank his coffee.

He rapped four times on Penny's door. He stomach was still in his apartment. His hands were cold. His mind felt numb. He had no script, no thesis, no plan. No reason to be at her apartment at 9:45 am.

No answer yet. It was Wednesday. Was she at work already?

No. The restaurant didn't open until 11am.

He knocked once more.

She answered.

He took her appearance in: black jeans, turquoise and red tribal-printed hoodie. Purple boots. Coffee cup in her hand.

"Morning,"

He sounded 12 years old.

She feigned oblivion. "What are you doing here so…"

Nuh-uh. She was bold before. Couldn't she be bold now, when it mattered? He was going to.

"You brought me back your little tank top… shirt," Smooth. He continued. "I gave it back to you but it was on my counter this morning,"

Her oblivion continued. "Probably a laundry mix-up,"

He was frustrated.

"Really? I doubt that,"

Yikes. A little too bold off the top, maybe. "I mean, that's just a coincidence that anyone would confuse that for mine…"

She shrugged. Oh, god, she was aggravating.

Honesty again. He was honest before, he could do it again. "You brought it back to me," He felt light. "You want me to have it,"

She swallowed her coffee hard. "Leonard, look, I'm not sure what you're getting at…"

His voice was so whiny. Jeez. "You brought it back to me!"

"So what!"

A-ha. Honesty on her part. Progress. "Why! Why would you bring me back something that belonged to you?"

"God, are you drunk? It's 9 am!"

"I'm not drunk." He stamped his foot. Whiny. He was not being as bold and suave as he'd pictured. "Damnit Penny, what do I have to do to get you to be forward with me?"

She said nothing.

"I mean, it's not fair,"

She said nothing.

"I always have to interpret and assume with you. And usually, usually I have to end up talking myself out of believing whatever it was that interpreted from you." He was a little mad, a coming off a little strong. "Why do I always have to do that?"

"You're cracked,"

"Don't deflect. For years I went over every little touch, ok?"

She said nothing.

"Are you glad that you had that much power over me? Did you know that, even? Did you want that?"

Uh oh. He was being too bold, too honest. Two words that had been his mission statement were turning him into an ass. Spewing out words before he had a chance to proof-think.

"I'm not pathetic. Maybe you think I am. Maybe that's why we broke up. Maybe that's why it took me two years to get you to go out with me," He pushed his glasses up his nose. "But I am not pathetic, alright? I don't think I am."

"I didn't say anything, don't put words into my mouth,"

"Well you should…why don't you put words into…your own mouth, then? I'm not a mind reader."

Smooth again. Awesome.

"Nothing?"

She shrugged. "Why are you telling me this?" Her voice was not harsh. It was soft, sad.

He didn't know. He didn't really know how he'd gotten here. "I'm being more honest now. I've decided,

"Ok,"

"Yeah. And it's going well. So, you know." He sighed. "Why don't you ever tell me what you're thinking!" he was so whiny. So defeated. So classically Leonard.

"I do!"

"No! No you absolutely do not. You walk away, you avoid the problem. You brought me back your shirt Penny. You did that, ok! You meant something by it! You know where that shirt's been. You knew that it could've been left in the kitchen. Ok? You meant something. You wanted to say something,"

What the hell. Never, ever had been quite so open.

She said nothing.

"Well, ok, fine. You didn't, then? I'm imagining this?"

She said nothing.

He felt uncomfortable. And shame! He was on such a roll too.

"What are you expecting me to say, Leonard? Yeah, I want you to have that shirt. I want you to remember me."

"I didn't forget you,"

That held more meaning that he had originally meant. It was just supposed to calm her fear.

"What are you expecting me to say, Leonard? Did you come over here to talk at me and get me to tell you that I love you? That we'd have this big old reunion in the hallway like the last frame of some comic? I'm hurting bad, Leonard, ok? I don't know why I gave you that stupid shirt back. I just wanted to be… proactive about something. Instead of keeping that goddamn snowflake next to my bed and being unnecessarily cold to your stupid – lovely, whatever, girlfriend. I wanted to do something. We never, ever did something. We didn't stir the pot, ever. I wanted to take a short-cut."

"You mean I didn't stir the pot?"

"Yeah. You had a crush on me for what, like two years? You never once did something that made me stand back and say, damn, yes, he definitely has feelings for me,"

"What about me? You… with your stupid cheek kisses and terms of endearment and all…"

He stopped. This was stupid. They were yelling. They were hurt. They were being dramatic.

"What were you expecting me to say? Then, and now?

Then, she wanted him to say that he had more respect and admiration for her than any other guy in the world ever would.

Now, he presumed she wanted him to say the same.

"It's just weird not being seen as the same by you. It's like one of those bad, insecure dreams, when you wake up and feel all weird because your dream just realized your big fear of being rejected."

Honesty. Well played, Penny.

They had both said a lot of words. "Penny,"

He was Leonard; his words were filled with a sudden shyness, a sudden softness, a sudden tenderness. He saw her heart melt. He'd seen it before, many times, when he'd used the same tone.

He was bold now.

"I'm not going to wait around for much longer, ok?"

"Huh?"

"Please decide."

Penny sighed. "I don't mean to make you wait. I'm sorry,"

He wanted to be bold. Bold, bold, bold. No crumbling. She had to come to him this time. Initiate it without a glass of wine in her hand. No costumes, no tequila, no nothing. She had to do it.

She stared at him. Big green eyes. Smudged mascara from sleep.

He stared at her.

She was never going to do it.

She was too scared.

"Damnit Penny,"

He kissed her. Long, deep. Coffee splashed from the cup to the floor, from the force of his embrace.

That was bold.

Weak? Bold? He didn't know. Honest? Yes.

They kissed for a long time. Neither winding down the passion, nor cranking it up to intense sexual levels.

It was what it was. It was them kissing in the hallway, wound so tightly together, coffee spilling down Penny's hand

He pulled away. His glasses sat crookedly on his face. "Me and Priya are broken up by the way," He said this really quickly, nervously. Smooth. "So don't think I'm some horrible…"

She laughed, cutting him off.

"I've got so much coffee everywhere,"

He could see her exuding giddiness.

She never exuded giddiness like this. She was more closed off usually.

Her smile was dopey. She recognized this, and looked at his small brown eyes. "I'm sorry,"

Leonard kissed her again, forcing her to drop the coffee cup. The ceramic didn't break. Coffee had wet the whole right side of Leonard's jeans. It smelt like a café.

Coffee pooled around his Converse sneakers.

He snaked his arms around her waist. Literally pulling her in, as much as he could. She was probably bent backwards.

He wanted her as close to him as possible. No clenched, awkward hands. No stiffening of his frame in self-preservation.

He pulled her in, in, in, in. His arms tightly clamped around her, kissing her.

"I can't breathe," She laughed. Pulling away from his kiss, she took a deep breath.

No desperate push to accelerate their kisses to sex, as it had been when he'd returned from the North Pole. No gentle guiding backwards into the apartment, no 2-year pent up desire to see her in her white floral bra again, this time without tequila. No impatience.

That would all come. He assumed, boldly, that they would be there again. More comfortable. Like they'd been before.

He held her face in his small hands, kissing her fervently.

She was laughing.

Fuck.

"Why are you laughing?"

She had tears in her eyes.

Oh.

She couldn't make out any words through her smile. And, Leonard presumed, her tear-choked throat.

She touched his cheek.

"I don't even know what to say," her voice was strained.

Leonard kissed her.

She kissed back.

"Should we go get breakfast?"

Leonard nodded.

Dizzy. Giddy. Happy. Petrified. Warm. Exploding. Laughing. Scared. Bold. Honest.

Happy.

"Come on,"

Ahh, there it was again. Just for a moment: ice-cold hands, fumbling, just for a second, as Penny joined her hand with his.

He relaxed.

He breathed.

He held on.

-fin.


End file.
